Maybe It's Only Us
by Cherry-On-Top.42
Summary: When Violet's plane crashes on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, she finds herself in a survival situation involving pigs, fires, and a whole lot of boys. Rated T, may change later on. Main boys involve Jack, Ralph, and Simon, but I'm only allowed to choose two for the Character Settings.
1. Chapter 1

Sea sprayed at the thick air as the tide pulled in. In the distance, an eagle called its cry of yearning and was met by many other shrieks piercing the air. The wind blew through the palm trees. They whispered softly the secrets of the mysterious jungle they guarded, with its suspicious shadows and muddy paths. This whispering is what plucked the young girl from her suffocation.

She gasped before anything. The air was dense and warm, doing close to nothing for her oxygen-exhausted lungs. Her brown eyes fluttered open and drank in her surroundings. The strip of land she lied on was stiff and slightly damp, just like her neck. White foam tickled her toes while her blonde hair tickled her cheek. Languidly, she rose to a position propped up on one skinny elbow. Her head pulsated and her white button-down was ripped vertically down one sleeve. Her shoes and socks were nowhere. She was robbed of whatever wisps of memory she had had left. Then the raven washed up.

Its fabric was black and silky, inevitably unaffected by the salt and water that inhabited the ocean. The silver badge shone brightly in the sunlight, almost too bright for the girl's eyes to recognise in her fragile state. She touched it and felt something tugging at her brain, kneading and pulling.

_Honourary Pilota of the Seven Seas_

There was something about it that made her cringe. Something was off about this bird. She picked up the hat and examined it closer. The silver badge gleamed as before, but with a tinge of dark red. There was definitely something forming in her brain, a storm dwelling and building. She almost had it, the priceless (and possibly life-saving) memory was toying with her. It was right on her dry, swollen tongue.

A trumpet.

The noise was distinct as it cut through the air. She sat up, fully on her knees before collapsing once more. Her thin fingers knotted in her hair as she leant her forehead against the cool walkway. The air circled her nearly bare legs, blew up the hem of her skirt playfully. It was the plane. The plane had crash-landed somewhere on their way back home.

The trumpet again.

She picked herself up and sluggishly made her way towards the far end of the strip. A deep scar in the forest captured her attention. Her hair hung in her eyes and she hastily ran a hand through it, shoving it briskly off her face in pursuit of a better view.

The trumpet gave off a short blast. Once. Twice. Three times.

The girl with the brown eyes hurriedly pulled herself together and shed her school cardigan where she stood. Her head was much clearer and she acknowledged about fifteen figures on the horizon, ranging from the height of her shoulder to slightly taller than she.

As she approached, a large boy with gleaming specs veered in her direction. "What's your name?"

Hesitating before she spoke, the girl cleared her throat and tossed her hair over her shoulder with a regnant air, "Violet."

The pudgy boy repeated the name to himself before moving on. Violet looked around her for the source of the noise that had sucked her in. The spate of wild boys jumping about was enough to make her head swim. She didn't suspect any of them could have made such a noise, but-

Another triplet of short blasts.

Violet whirled around and peered into the eyes of a boy about three inches taller. He had fair hair and was wearing the same uniform as the rest of the smaller boys, except he had discarded the navy jacket. In his hand, he held a creamy shell and was pulling it away from his mouth.

"Did you just make that noise with a shell?" She questioned, incredulously. He nodded proudly before the enormous boy from before butted in.

"That shell is called a conch, and I found it!" He countered.

"Well, I blew it, and I summoned everybody, so that's just too bad." The fair-haired boy retorted. His voice was slightly deep and soothing.

"You know I can't blow it on account of my asthma!"

"Sucks to your ass-mar!" He smirked before giving the conch one last blast. The fat one reverted to his shady corner against a leaning palm.

"What's your name?" She demanded the taller boy.

"Ralph," he responded authoritatively. "Yours?"

"Violet," She replied. "What about that other kid? The one with the ass-mar?"

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought to ask..." He trailed off. "Hey! Boy!"

About eight boys snapped to attention before they realised which boy he was addressing. Said boy lumbered in our direction with a pathetic look on his face.

"What do they call you?" Ralph postulated. The boy took off his specs and rubbed them against his greasy blazer before replying.

"I don't care what they call me, as long as they don't call me what they did at school." He looked at his chubby fingers, embarrassed.

"What did they call you?"

The boy looked over his shoulder and uttered a single, derogatory term, "Piggy."

Violet controlled her amusement, as she had been brought up to be a lady. Ralph, however, had no such desire.

"Piggy! Oh, Piggy!" He jeered at the red-faced boy. A few other boys were provoked by this outburst and started up as well, even thought they had not a clue as to what they were laughing about.

"Alright, alright!" Ralph tried to quiet them. "Enough!" The sudden silence was deafening.

Violet stood slightly apart from the group, feeling a bit awkward. She was the only female as far as she could tell. Aside from Ralph and Piggy, there seemed to be only one or two other boys around their age. She impulsively dropped her attention onto Ralph.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words could exit. This was due to the distant buzz of voices in the extent of the sandy path behind the group. The harmony grew louder in proximity but not in words.

At first, the group didn't know what it was. It looked like a single creature the colour of the raven and as it swarmed in their direction, a littleun squeaked in terror.

As they shifted closer, the different figures became more distinct. One boy led the rest with a face like a demagogue and an air of condescension. His hat was tight on his head over his reddish hair and distinguished him from the rest of the cluster by a silvery badge. All were wearing long, charcoal cloaks with silver crosses on the left breast. When they got right in front of the others, the leader opened his mouth.

"Choir, halt!" He demanded. They halted.

One boy suddenly fell out of juxtaposition with the rest. He landed on his stomach and about half the choir promptly scooped him up and laid him in the shade.

"Is that kid alright?" Ralph demanded bravely.

"Oh, Simon faints all the time, don't even bother." The seeming-leader didn't appear to give the boy a second thought. Violet stared at him in disbelief and was taken aback when he met her glance with his own. His eyes looked past hers and almost into her. They slowly dragged down from her eyes to her feet and flickered back at her face.

"Who's that?" He stared pointedly in her direction. Violet scoffed, attempting to give off independence, but was undermined by the flush of her cheeks.

"I'm Violet." She emphasized for the third time today. He turned back to his choir, not deigning to introduce himself.

"Togs off." He spat. The group dropped their heavy cloaks with a whoosh. Their red faces looked relieved. Violet turned to her left and, facing the forest, noticed that no one removed Simon's cloak. While Ralph and the even taller choir boy conversed, she slipped behind the rest of his choir and unfastened the brass clip around his neck, letting the cloak puff out and fall flat onto the white sand.

He still lied motionless, so Violet reached for the hambone frill around his neck. Her cool fingers grazed his neck and his eyes shot open. They were a dull blue and his shock of black hair flopped over his forehead.

"Sorry," she whispered. "You looked overheated."

"Thanks." He mumbled and brushed himself off. He stood up and walked over by the rest of the choir.


	2. Chapter 2

After Ralph and Jack finished their conversation, Ralph captured the attention of all the boys and drew them to order in the shaded area.

"We'd better all have names," he started, clutching the conch in his hand. "So I'm Ralph."

"We got most names," Piggy added. "Got 'em just now."

The leader decided he didn't need to be told everything from someone like Piggy. With a contemptuous manner, he spat, "Kids' names. Why should I be Jack? I'm Merridew."

"You're not allowed to speak without the conch!" Ralph chided.

Meanwhile Piggy was still in his own world of innocence.

"Then," he went on. "that boy - I forget-"

"You're talking too much," Jack Merridew snapped. "Shut up Fatty!"

Simultaneously, Piggy's chubby face singed red and he was about to speak up when Ralph decided to butt in.

"He's not Fatty," Ralph protested with delight. "His real name's Piggy!"

With this, much laughter arose and filled the air with a feeling of triumph on Ralph's end. However, Violet was astounded. She knew boys were inferior to girls when it came to manners, but this was just ridiculous. Ridiculous and cruel. She shot daggers at Ralph and Jack. They were laughing together like they were old mates when just a minute ago, Jack had insisted arrogantly on being called by his last name, a request to which Violet would never appease. It just goes to show how boys will come together if it means gibing on another boy.

Jack suddenly noticed Violet and singled her out as the only person who didn't find this mockery droll. He needed to capture her attention somehow. He took hold of the conch abruptly, ignoring Ralph's remonstrance.

"We've got to decide about being rescued." He declared. Violet looked at him, unsatisfied.

Ralph seized the conch from Jack. "Everyone listen! We ought to elect someone to decide things."

"A chief! A chief!"

"I ought to be chief," Jack asserted. "I'm chapter chorister, head boy, and I can sing C sharp."

Violet had had enough of his supercilious demeanor. She did something she never knew she was brave enough to do.

"Would you please let him speak for more than five seconds?" She insisted. Her soft features were irritated and her voice went up an octave. She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. Jack stepped up to her. He puffed his chest out and walked right up next to her, so contiguous their chests were almost touching. He was taller than Ralph and certainly taller than her by about five inches. Maybe six.

He leant over her and she wilted. "Listen," he started. She was breathing heavily and her chest grazed his. "I'm not going to stand around and take orders from you. Especially from a _girl!_"

The word came from his mouth like a bullet. He finished his flare with a smirk and backed away. Violet was left staring.

"Jack, shut up," Ralph muttered. "We have to vote for chief."

Jack gave Violet one more glare before turning to Ralph and the rest of the boys.

"All right, who wants Jack for chief?"

One by one, the choir raised their hands with docility. Violet noticed that they were rather circumspect about it. It really shows what kind of a group they are.

"Who wants me?"

Everyone aside from the choir, Violet and Piggy raised their hands at once. Piggy then withdrew his hand from his side with sagacious movement and voted for Ralph. Violet stared at her feet.

"I'm chief then." Ralph concluded. Jack's face singed and Ralph turned to him quickly.

"The choir belongs to you, of course. They can be...what do you want them to be?"

"Hunters." He replied without hesitation. Violet noticed that Simon's face instantly turned opaque and pallid.

After Jack, Ralph, and Simon's expedition to the mountain, the conch is sounded and a meeting is called. All the kids gather around on a triangle of thick longs along the jungle. Violet takes her place on the edge of a log, slightly further apart from the others. She doesn't dare approach the gender-barrier quite yet.

"Well then," Ralph said expectantly, unsure where to start. "We're on an island. An uninhabited one, at that. No houses, smoke, people, nothing."

Jack was impatient and impetuous.

"All the same you need an army - for hunting. Hunting pigs-"

"Yes. There are pigs on the island." Ralph interjected, bringing the attention back on his spotlight. "So you see, we need hunters to get us meat. And another thing."

Everyone looked up, Ralph was turning the shell over apprehensively in his hands.

"There aren't any grownups here. We have to establish rules-"

"Lots of rules!" Jack was on his feet. "And if anyone breaks 'em-"

"Whee-oh!"

"Wacco!"

"Bong!"

"Doink!"

All the littleuns mimed bashing heads and kicking stomachs.

"Wait- Ralph-" A husky voice started up. Everyone turned to Piggy, some (Jack) with disgust. Violet looked at him with profuse pity.

"You're hindering," Piggy declared as Ralph offered up the shell. "What we really need to focus on is who knows we're here?"

This question took everyone by surprise. A laconic reticence followed as the boys and Violet pondered this thought. Who does know where they are?

"They knew at the airport-"

"No." A voice that was higher than the rest rang out from the back of the assembly. All eyes rested on the girl with the blonde hair. "The answer to the proposed question is no. No one knows we're here or where we are." The boys were shocked that the one girl dare speak up, especially after the earlier episode with Jack.

"That's what I was going to say," Ralph interjected the lull, "when you all, all..." He gazed at their absorbed faces. "The plane was shot down in flames. Nobody knows where we are. We may be here a long time."

A little boy was then pushed forward by his mates. He obviously didn't wish to be reaped for his remark, but it was discernible he had to tell someone something.

"All right, come on then." Ralph coaxed.

The little boy reached out for the conch with apprehensive fingers. This brought a wave of laughter throughout the aggregation, and a wave of tears onto the boy. Piggy berated Ralph into giving him the conch, but by then, the littleun had lost his voice.

Violet's paternal instincts conveyed her to him more than anything else. She leant down and pitched her ear to him.

"He wants to know what you're going to do about the snake-thing." She concluded. She said this with such sobriety that Ralph laughed and the other boys chortled along. Even sweet old Simon snickered.

"Tell us about the snake-thing."

A pause. Then, "Now he says it's a beastie."

"Beastie? Where?"

"In the woods; he saw it." She was defiant.

"He was dreaming!"

"Well, we'll make sure when we hunt." Jack certified, looking pointedly at Violet. Violet pierced him with her orbs. He looked away.

The meeting carried on, and was dispersed to make an attempt at a fire. All the boys booked for the mountain-top like a pack of savages. Violet slowly trailed behind, not wanting to interfere, but not wanting to be left back. Ralph and Piggy caught up to her.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask," Ralph began. Violet waited vigilantly. "Why didn't you vote? For chief, I mean."

She excogitated this for a bit before answering. "I don't know an easy way to put this, but I don't think there should be a chief."

Both boys were stunned. "Well, why not?"

She took a deep breath. "This sort of thing never ends well. You saw how Jack looked at you. And then you let him be in charge of the hunters? No offense, but you'd have to be crazy to make a decision like that. If you ever create a row, which you certainly will at some point or another, who's going to have all the power? Those choir boys know their loyalties reside with Jack. They wanted him as chief. And now that you're chief, there will be all sorts of predicaments."

Ralph was silent.

"She has a point-"

"Shut your fatass, Piggy." Piggy was silent.

They reached the top of the mountain. They were quarreling about how to start a fire. She rolled her eyes. The answer was right in front of them.

"Piggy," she whispered to the whimpering ham. "hand over the glasses."

"Wha-? No! I need my specs to see-"

"Just do it. I'll give them right back after I show these imbeciles how to start a fire." Piggy grudgingly relinquished the specs.

Violet made her way to the bulk of the boys.

" 'Scuse me." She pressed herself against Simon in order to get to the center where all the firewood was hoarded. His cheeks burned.

She poked through the clump until she affronted Jack. He stood tall and wouldn't let her by.

"Jack, move. Please." She added.

"Why? What have you got?"

"Our survival." She retorted hotly before prodding his shoulder and slipping past.

She felt the boys cluster around her as she straightened the glass on the specs in line with the sun. Some littleuns pressed against her as well as a choir boy or two, eager to learn her ways. Slowly, steadily, the glossy spot of concentrated light grew hotter and hotter, until it started to smoke. Abruptly, a fire was going.

The boys cheered. The littleuns danced around it and beat at their chests. Violet smiled and noticed Jack watching her with a new look. Respect.

Then, there was wind.

Followed by flames.

Everywhere.


	3. Chapter 3

The flames tore across the mass of weeds and overgrown grass. Violet cantered away from the scene and observed as the boys pursued the orange snake.

Piggy also stood, indignantly watching as the other, more athletic boys took on the lead. The snake attacked the low branches of the sole tree on the mountain and continued to climb and swerve across the dry, green canvas. Several of the boys tore off their shirts and began violently flapping at the thing. The tree's silhouette turned thinner and thinner as the limbs turned a stingy ebony. 'The heart of the flame leapt nimbly across the gap between the arms and then went swinging and flaring along the whole row of them. The separate noises of the fire merged into a drumroll that seemed to shake the mountain' (A/N: those sentences were taken from the book, I didn't think of them).

"You got your small fire, alright." Piggy scowled at Violet and a bitter gong vibrated in her stomach. This was her fault.

"Easy, now," Ralph exclaimed to the boys as they got most of blaze under control. "We've got to let the rest of this burn out."

Piggy continued to send daggers at Violet. Suddenly, her gong incinerated.

"Don't think you can pin this on me!" She burst without warning.

"You took my specs-"

"Well _they_ were the dimwits that piled the firewood like a hayrick! If they had, oh I don't know, picked a spot that _wasn't _surrounded by dried weeds, we might have had a steady flame!" Violet declared. Was she the only sensible one here?

"I agree." Someone piped up from the back of the clique. The jumble of males parted and there stood Simon. He walked hesitantly towards Violet who didn't break her stare with him. He was right in front of her now, and half of his shirt was seared off from his clash with the inferno. He stood at the exact same height as her, a tad smaller than most of the biguns.

On the other hand, Jack had a different idea. His smidgen of regards to Violet had disintegrated along with the fine pasture.

"Simon can stand up for his _girlfriend_ all he likes, when I really know that I should have never listened to a stupid girl in the first place!" He had surrendered his shirt to the fire and an ankle had burnt off of his dress pants. Looking rather valiant, he ordered the rest of his choir with a hand motion and they began to collect the remainders of their clothes.

Simon turned away from Violet.

The hunter tossed his bleached hair out of his eyes. The wind preened at his sunburnt shoulders as he lowered his head to the imprinted dirt. The trail was barely perceptible and heat rose from the ground in an invisible vapour. He felt his stomach turn and slightly cramp from constant fruit digestion. His fingers slid down the bark of his hand-crafted spear and the remainder of his dilapidated boxers clung to his legs. No doubt about it; Jack Merridew craved meat.

A fracas sounded in the nearby bushes and his eyes turned to slits. He stole a few feet, gliding on his hands and knees. His predatory instincts took to extreme measures as he craned his neck towards the disturbance. Then, the challenger appeared.

He was fast, no doubt, but the black-bristled, wild boar was inevitably faster. The hunter lunged and released his vengeance onto the creature. A vengeance that had boiled underneath his sheath since their first encounter.

The spear entered the sow with momentum, but slipped back out. This only fed Jack's thirst.

He stalked back toward the shore, bloody spear in tow. Violet was talking with Ralph and helping him make shelters. Her messy, lighter hair now fell around her ribs. Her eyes shone as she talked to Ralph. Jack felt a pang in his chest. The sudden need to interject. What could that be about?

"Ralph!" He called. He jogged over. His body was thin from minor undernourishment, yet toned from his exercise. Earth from his hunt was streaked down his torso. Violet noticed, but didn't acknowledge it. After all, she was just a stupid girl.

"Got any water?" He questioned.

Ralph looked up, frowning, from the complication of the leaves. He didn't notice Jack even when he saw him.

"Hey, you got any water? I'm thirsty."

Ralph tore his eyes away from his work and realised Jack with a start.

"Oh, uh, by the tree."

Jack scooped up a coconut and dumped the water into his mouth. It sloshed over the edge and splashed onto his chest.

"Needed that."

Simon poked his head out from the shelter, "Up a bit."

Violet tugged the vine she was using as a pulley and a whole tiling of leaves tumbled onto Simon's head.

"Oops." She reached down and brushed the leaves out of his hair and the crook of his neck. He didn't meet her eyes as she ruffled his hair and continued to work.

"Never get it done." Ralph proclaimed with distaste. "Been working for days now. And look!"

The shelters were unsteady and the current one was in a ruin.

"And they keep running off. The littluns are-" He gesticulated for a word. "They're hopeless. The older ones aren't much better. D'you see? All day I've been working with Simon and Vi while everyone else is off eating or playing."

"We want meat." Jack's cheeks flushed when he heard Ralph address Violet with such casualty.

"Well, we haven't got any yet. And we want shelters. Besides, the rest of your hunters came back hours ago. They've been swimming."

"I went on. I let them go. I had to go on I-" Jack hesitated. "I thought I might kill."

"But you didn't."

"I thought I might."

"But you haven't yet." Ralph's voice reverberated with passion.

Violet could sense the tangible tension.

"Guys-"

"You wouldn't care to help with the shelters, I suppose?"

"We want meat-"

"And we don't get it."

"But I shall! Next time!" Jack's eyes flared. "I've got to get a barb on this spear! We wounded a pig and the spear fell out. If we could only make barbs-"

"We need shelters." There was brief silence. Then,

"Are you accusing-?"

"Jack!" Violet cried. "No one is accusing you of-"

"Yes, I very well am!" Ralph interrupted. "If this 'hunter' had-"

"_Like I said,_" Violet continued, giving Ralph a forceful scowl. "No one's accusing you of anything. All he's trying to say is that we've worked dashed hard. That's all."

Both boy's were red in the face.

"We need shelters because of the-" Ralph momentarily paused as both boys rid themselves of their anger.

"You've noticed, haven't you?"

Violet looked interested and Simon poked his head out of their work-in-progress.

"Noticed what?" Jack replied.

"Well. They're frightened."

"It's true."

Violet looked up at Jack through her tangled bangs.

"I hear them at night. They cry, whimper. Talking in their sleep as well. Even some of the others. As if-"

"As if," said Simon, "the beastie, or snake-thing, was real. Remember?"

"As if this wasn't a good island." Ralph concluded.

Jack stretched.

"They're batty. Remember when we went exploring?" The three boys grinned at each other.

Ralph went on explaining the need for shelters while Violet tightened the rope-like vine. Simon reached up a finger and pulled the taught vine, letting it spring back. He smiled at her and she winked.

Jack was saying something. Simon turned.

"If you're hunting sometimes you catch yourself feeling as if-" He was reluctant. "There's nothing in it of course. Just a feeling. But if you can feel as if you're not hunting, but-being hunted, as if something's behind you all the time in the jungle." Ralph stood up and rubbed his dirty shoulder.

"Well, I don't know."

Jack leapt up and starting following Ralph, speaking very quickly. Violet and Simon remained beside the remains of the shelter.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm probably going to update once a week.**

Simon looked hesitantly at Violet. He was never good with words, much less with girls, so he offered her a vine with a hint of a smile tugging at his pale lips. Violet, however, was not rather shy. She smiled gently and accepted before attempting small talk.

"What part of England are you from?" She questioned. He looked up at her silently, watching as the sun glinted off of her hair. It had grown longer from time and lighter from sun exposure. His eyes trailed coyly from her roots to her rips where her tips hung. She was emaciated, as were the rest of them, but still gained the small curves that came with being a female. She ceased the tedious work she was doing to look at him expectantly. He snapped out of his haze, tossed his mop out of the way.

"Oh, um, I'm from..." He stopped. "I'm from..." It dawned on him. He couldn't remember. The sensation inside him was much like claustrophobia, except suspenseful. He was stupefied by this. He couldn't remember his own province?

Violet sensed his anguish and sympathized for the poor boy. She kept to herself, though, not wanting to embarrass him. Instead she picked a different topic.

"Do you have a family?"

Simon's eyes glazed over. He looked up at her selfless beauty. He flicked his hair out of his face again, quite irritated at this point. He thought back to his family.

"I h-have a mother, a father, and," He looked down, breaking their eye contact. "I have a brother."

"Oh."

A brief silence. Simon handed Violet another rope of creeper.

"How old is your brother?"

Simon thought about it. "Five or six, I believe. Downright annoying as well." He grinned.

Violet contemplated before asking a more rooted question.

"Do you ever miss him?"

Simon choked.

"Yea, I-"

He blinked.

"I kinda do."

Simon wasn't one for words, so they continued working. Violet glanced sideways at him, and assessed him in her mind. He didn't talk much, wasn't very social. However, he communicated with actions.

He pitched his heap of coarse hair off of his forehead and through a glance in her direction. He looked her over again, and turned slightly toward her. She was reaching up really high to tie a knot in a vine, but her fingers shook too much. The pale layers of hair draped and framed her tan face. Her eyes were stormy.

He stood up and reached around either side of her with his arms, tying the knot with a perfectionist manner. She could feel his arms around her and her insides melted as his hair tickled her ear. She spun, quickly in his arms, catching him off guard. They were conterminous and as their eyes met, Simon attempted to regain his balance.

A failed attempt on his part.

Violet steadied him, grabbing his waist. He let his fringe fall over his eyes and peered at her through it demurely. His hand had groped her shoulder as he had lapsed, and now it remained.

"Thanks." Violet said, looking at him boldly. He mumbled an appropriate response back, not meeting her eyes. She moved her hands from his ethereal waist up his apt torso. His shirt barely remained after the menial work on the island. A long sleeve was torn straight down. The middle of his shirt where the buttons met was tattered, ripped completely away at some parts near his neck.

He was apprehensive. His hand hesitantly made its way down her arm and the other one still hung at his side. He eyed the swaying shelter. The wind was picking up.

Violet was real close now. He felt his hands start to sweat and stressed over the fact that one of them was touching her. He gulped and his stomach was barricaded with rocks.

The wind was growing rapidly.

Violet's hands moved to the sides of his face as his other hand settled near her hip.

The wind stirred the trees all around.

He had never kissed a girl, not even once. His head started to ache. His hands clammed up.

_Stirring, stirring._

She was closer now. He felt her hair tickle his cheek.

_Faster. Swirling._

**_CRACK!_**

The flimsy shelter collapsed onto them. They fell and gasped for air, as the wind had been knocked out of their deceived lungs.

"Wacco!" Violet coughed. Her hair blew in her face and Simon lie stretched on the sand. He was dazed yet relieved. And something else was there too. There, along the conflicting emotions of fear, another ecstasy was fighting its way in. Simon was crestfallen.

He stood and Violet leapt to her feet as well. Simon didn't meet her eyes, but was startled when she leant over to him. There, she planted a quick peck on his cheek and flounced away, not looking back.

Simon's cheek felt warm, and his emotion slate was wiped blank as he processed what just happened. He smiled before sprinting off into the jungle.

* * *

"The best thing we can do is get ourselves rescued." Ralph explained to Jack. They romped through the creepers, slashing their way towards the lagoon.

"Rescue? Yes, of course! All the same, I'd like to catch a pig first-" He stabbed his blunt spear into the earth with force. His eyes became opaque. Ralph stared critically.

"So long as your hunters remember the fire-"

"You and your fire!"

They trotted along the strip and stared at the column of smoke that rose steadily off the mountain's pinnacle.

Ralph frowned.

"I wonder how far off you could see that."

"Miles."

"They don't make enough smoke."

The boys watched a bit longer in silence. Then,

"Got it!" Jack shouted suddenly.

"What? Where? Is it a ship?" Ralph jumped excitedly.

"Of course!" Jack pointed at the high cavities of the carving. "They'll lie up there-they must, when the sun's too hot they get up high."

"I thought you saw a ship!"

"We could steal up on one-paint our faces so they wouldn't see-perhaps surround them and then-"

Ralph's dignity betrayed him.

"I was talking about smoke! Don't you want to be rescued? All you can talk about is pig, pig, pig!"

"But we want meat!"

"And I work all day with no one but Simon and Vi and you come back and don't even notice the huts-"

"I was working too-"

"But you like it!" Ralph cried, exasperated. "You want to hunt! While I-"

Both boys squinted down the beach to where the rest were lounging.

"People don't help much."

"Simon's always about."

"He's buzzed off," Ralph exclaimed. "Queer, he's funny."

The boys continued to the lagoon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright. Many people have been telling me that Violet is a Mary Sue because she knows everything or gains respect from someone or thinks of something none of the boys thought of, etc. So I tried to appease everybody and made her blend in a bit, act like one of the guys. Now people are complaining she's too bland. I appreciate reviews but I can't fulfill both inquiries, so for now I'm going to just make her my own little character. If you think she's too Sueish or too bland, I apologize, but she's my character and I'll make her how I want. I'm just a girl.**

Simon trotted through the chaparral. Perspiration drenched his remainder of a stiff, grey shirt as twigs caressed the scars of previous encounters. He needed something. And that something was time. An accommodation in which he could think and be alone. No disturbances. No distractions.

He stumbled along the burly, green ropes. His coarse hair was plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck. At last, he found it.

The shelter was solemn and steaming. As the boy approached, he half expected something to come barreling out of it. His feet sunk into the soft soil and left shadowy prints. No sunshine fell here and Simon's stomach convulsed, partly from fear, partly from indigestion. The creepers wove a mat next to a great open space; for little vegetation could burgeon in such an aphotic residence. The perimeter was walled in by scenic, smelly bushes and an ample tree had fallen across a corner.

Simon lingered. He pitched a furtive glance over his shoulder before leaning and worming his way through the great mat. His head poked through and he squinted in the sudden spate of sunlight. Nothing inhabited his little cabin aside from two rather violent butterflies. He squirmed and writhed until his body wormed itself in among the twigs and vines.

He remained until the sunlight ceased and darkness spilled in from above. The stars twinkled and the flowers opened up. Their aroma penetrated the air around the meager figure.

As the time passed by, the children became knowledgeable with the times. The sun swung down from one side of the earth and an assembly was called. The sun swung on this axis and their schedule grew more and more routine.

The littler boys were soon just referred to as "littluns." The decrease in size from Ralph down was gradual. And although Simon, Violet, and Maurice occupied a sort of category of their own, no one had trouble distinguishing who the "biguns" were.

Everyone on the island had resigned to living off of fruit. Aside from the occasional stomach ache or diarrhea, they were doing quite well.

One sunny afternoon, Violet was sitting along the strip of sand. She was letting Percival and Henry bury her legs. They were quite enjoying it, until Robert and Maurice came romping along the strip as well. Robert flew past the Percival, flinging sand behind him with his bare feet. The littun began to whimper and paw at his eye. Maurice ran by as well, laughing, then stopped. He had been chastised in his past life for filling one's eye with sand and continued along silently.

Violet's first instinct was maternal. She fought the impulse to pull Percival close and wipe his eye. Smooth his dirty hair. Tell him everything would work out. It's what her mother would have done. Her mother would have enveloped her in a warm hug. Maybe made her a cup of tea. They would have curled up in a blanket and dreamed the night away...

She sat there pensively instead. The littlun's tear washed out the sand and he continued to pat down the smooth sand across her legs.

_Splash!_

Violet's head snapped towards the great sea where the sound had materialized. The water slowly exhaled and the tide licked the beach. The littluns sustained their playing.

_Splash! Splash!_

She saw it this time. A small, grey entity whizzed over her head, followed by a slightly larger one. The rocks hit the ocean and she whirled around to find a dark figure poking about behind the trees.

"Who's there?" Henry cried, courageously, as one of the rocks had nearly clouted his head.

Roger stepped forward and Percival strutted over and berated him. Roger acted ashamed, but he was just putting on a show for the poor kid. Violet tried not to laugh at how chiding Percival sounded.

She smiled a bit and both littluns ran off to find some flowers to decorate their masterpiece with. Roger ran in the direction Robert and Maurice had fled in.

The girl laid back against the sand, much like when she first washed up. She closed her eyes and felt the sun slide down her face. The wind picked up again and fluttered her skirt up. Violet flattened it once more and audibly gasped when she opened her eyes.

"What have you done to yourself?" She scolded. The hunter gazed down at her dominantly. A shadow of the former chapter chorister stood before her. His face and chest streaked and smeared in white, red and black. He was stripped to his boxers and Violet immediately found her cheeks heating up.

"They don't smell me. They see me. If only I had some green..."

"What are you talking about?" Violet sat up.

"The pigs," he went on. "It's for hunting. Like in the war. You know-dazzle paint. Like things trying to look like something else-like moths on a tree trunk."

"Well you look ridiculous." She was getting irritated. This was getting out of hand.

"Not as ridiculous as you did when your skirt blew up." He retaliated, suggestively flicking the hem. She slapped his hand and he pulled it back. He sat next to her.

"Want to go hunting?"

Violet gave him a death glare. "Why would I ever want to do that?"

"It's fun. You get this sensation-"

"Save it. I'm waiting for Henry and Percival." She gestured to her sandy shins.

"I can wait." He sank down and sat next to her.

Violet internally rolled her eyes and smoothed her skirt. She looked out into the ocean. After a couple of minutes, the silence overcame her.

"Wipe that stuff off your face!" The girl cried. It set her teeth on edge to see him like that. It was as if he was crossing an unrecognized line.

He was taken aback.

"No! I'm going to get us meat and this is the only way-"

Violet reached over and her fingers slowly grazed his cheek. His hand shot up to hers and snatched it. Her eyes widened, but he relaxed and let go. She put her hand back and trailed her fingers across his cheek, simultaneously clearing the war paint and cleansing The Boy.

He took this time to look at her. _Really_ look at her.

When she had gotten most of it off his face, she turned to him. He still had traces of the horrible stuff, but most was clear. Now for his chest. Violet pulled the remainder her sleeve over the heel of her hand. She put the other hand on his shoulder to steady him and started to rub the markings. The colours slowly blended into each other and left his skin onto her sleeve.

"That's much better." She murmured, her hand lingering on his chest. Her hand started to draw back toward her, but Jack culled it and held it against his chest again.

"Yes, it is." His eyes pierced her own.

"Your heart's beating really fast." Violet remarked.

"Is it?" The boy replied casually, as if they were contemplating the weather.

His eyes were blue. Ever so blue. Violet fell in.

"Violet! Do you like petunias?" A voice shattered the air and Violet recovered.

"Yes, those are lovely!" She called, taking her hand back.

The littluns tore through the growth clad with flowers.

"I'll be hunting."

Jack jogged away.


	6. Chapter 6

She felt the fluttering in her stomach as she accelerated forward, then back. Forward, then back. Each pump created a new burst of butterflies and she giggled as her hair blew in her face. Gripping the chains on either side of her, she prepared to hop off and land on the soft dirt in front of her.

"Violet! It's time for tea!" A voice called from the door of the house laced with ivy.

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but instead of her premeditated response, a different cry made itself known.

"_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"

The girl with brown eyes stirred. Dragging her heavy tongue across her dry lips, she peeped open her eyes. The sky was grey and seemed to be closing in. Locks of her hair were plastered to her face and a sudden spate of wind beat at the sand that swirled in patterns around her head.

Violet was alone.

She sat up and slightly wilted when she realised the state of the mound of sand the littluns had piled. Well, some things don't last forever.

Her eyes drew to the sea, the wide open sea. Resting her head on a shoulder, she began to stare. The hypnotic waves drew in, and crashed upon the shore. As the sea breathed towards her, something else caught her eye.

"_Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"

Her eyes widened at the hysteria of both the chant and the cruise liner, and she took off at a sprint.

* * *

His eyes were black slits in the dreadful mask. His body, poised. Every nerve was trained on the same idle being. With an authoritative motion from the leader, the line stole forward.

Now, a mere twenty feet from it, the hunter paused. He collected himself; they couldn't afford to be given away at this point. With a deep breath, he cried out such a cacophony that the echoing vibrations were nearly visible. Every boy in the line streamed forward, hands opening and closing, itching to grab a fistful of the bloated, fat flesh.

The creature had no chance.

* * *

The water was sparkling and compelled the boy with the fair hair. He glanced around. The only boys withdrawn from the hunt were Maurice, Simon, Piggy, himself, and Samneric who were manning the fire.

He splashed in.

"Mind my specs!" The fat boy cried. His body had turned golden like the rest of the boys, however his hair remained quite unchanged. Ralph flipped his mop out of his eyes as he resurfaced and sat himself under the palms with a wet plop.

Piggy joined him.

"I've been thinking," he said, "about a clock. We could make a sundial. We could put a stick in the sand, and then-"

The boy was unable to connote the mathematical complexity for such a process. Instead, he made a few passes.

"And an air-plane, and a TV set," said Ralph sourly, "and a steam engine."

Piggy didn't compute the sarcasm.

"You have to have a lot of metal things for that," he said, "and we haven't got no metal. But we got a stick."

Ralph glanced sideways at Piggy and smirked. While Piggy had his bore ideas, his ass-mar, his fat, there was still amusement to be found in occasionally pulling his leg.

Piggy's face lighted up immediately as he misinterpreted it for friendliness. He pressed his mirage of an advantage.

"We got a lot of sticks. We could have a sundial each. Then we should know what the time was."

"A fat lot of good that would be."

"You said you wanted things done. So as we could be rescued."

"Oh, shut up."

Ralph turned sharply and strutted back to the diving pool just in time to see Maurice make a rather poor dive. Happy to change the subject, he cried, "Belly flop! Belly flop!"

Maurice flashed Ralph a smile as the boy slid into the water. Nonetheless, Ralph was irked, by the mention of rescue, the pointless, worthless mention of rescue. No balm was held by even the clambering depths of the pool or the glinting sheen of light on the surface. The boy swam instead of playing, with steady strokes.

Meandering around in the water, he drew sick of the stuff and crawled out the opposite end of the pool. The light reflecting off his sleek body gave him the look of a seal. Piggy clumsily followed, like the lowly puppy he is. Ralph turned onto his side and feigned not to notice. He turned gloomily to the sea.

The horizon was met by two clashing shades of blue. As the sea green waves licked the robin's egg sky, Ralph ran his eyes along the point.

In one swift motion, he leapt up and began shouting.

"Smoke! Smoke!"


End file.
